


a silent rebellion

by theninthmember



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Jeremy doesn't know, M/M, Michael is a faerie, Mutual Pining, and he has plant magic, and i love him
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2018-12-02 16:40:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11513313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theninthmember/pseuds/theninthmember
Summary: Faeries are banished from the human world. Which would be fine except Michael has recently discovered that he might be a little less human than he once thought. Also someone's trying to kill the princess.





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic on here, so I'm pretty nervous but also excited.
> 
> This is supposed to be some sort of medieval world but I don't know enough about medieval times to write it correctly so let's just chalk inaccuracies up to the whole alternate universe thing. 
> 
> Beta'd by me so tell me if there are any huge typos. 
> 
> I planned this whole story out in a day but the actual writing takes weeks because I get so bored just staring at an empty page.

There were faeries in Middleton once. That's what it said in the legends, at least. That's what it said in the stories Michael grew up hearing every night. He knew most of them were just nonsense to put the younger children to sleep. But that one stuck with him. It was a narrative that echoed throughout the kingdom.

The story goes that hundreds of years ago, humans and faeries lived as one. There was still a Gate, but fae were free to cross over to the human world, and vice versa. But after centuries of peace, something happened. The stories varied at this point, but most said that the faeries got greedy. They wanted control of the human world as well as their own.

In every version, there was the war. It was violent and bloody, fire and metal and humans being dragged down into the soil to suffocate and faeries being burned alive until nothing was left but a pile of ash. The fighting could have gone on forever, but there were two women, one faerie and one human. They were lovers, and every night they met in a garden, far from the fighting. But the faerie was the queen, and she was married. When the king found out, he sent a group of soldiers into the garden, and they killed the human.

The queen was overtaken by rage, and became a force more powerful than nature itself. A storm of faerie magic and passion and hatred. No one stood a chance.

The price the soldiers paid for disrupting the peace of the garden and killing the queen's lover was quick and painful. But she wasn't done. She stormed onto the battlefield, on the front lines, and everyone, human and faerie, became frozen. Trapped in thick branches and leaves and flowers. (Michael hadn't realized how dark that was as a kid, but now when he heard the story he could only imagine how it must look hundred of years later. Skeletons intertwined with bushes, flowers blooming from the skulls. Deformed trees in the vague shape of a person. It was terrifying to picture.)

She was the most powerful faerie in existence, and now she was using the full extent of her abilities. The stillness spread as she moved across the field, a growing green speck on the land. As they had destroyed her garden, they became her garden. And soon, the tranquility covered far and wide. They say she uttered her final words in the center of it all, though Michael was unsure who was supposed to have heard her.

_"I remain, a silent rebellion. Not a thorn, nor a bloodstained petal, but a rose in its entirety. Not danger, and not peace, but an act of defiance. A reminder of all that was and all that could be. A reminder of life in the midst of death. A reminder of me."_

As the words rung through the air, she used the last of her magic to grow a tree. Or, grow herself _into_ a tree. It rose up around her feet, twisting around when legs. Her arms began to sprout leaves. Her skin grew hard and moss began to grow around her torso. And then there was quiet.

(Michael never understood that last part.

"That's her act of defiance? Turning into a tree?" he asked with a laugh.

"No," Jeremy said, frowning as he looked up at the sky. "I think it's more like... choosing to exist as a tree. Like, she had all this power, and she chose to use it to stop the war instead of fighting in it. Her revenge was to end the war." Michael didn't argue with him, because fuck, he was already so far gone, even at the age of twelve, he would have agreed with anything Jeremy said.)

Supposedly, that was the day the war ended. Both sides (what was left of them, at least) banished the other from their world. The Gate was hidden and closed for good. And that's why there were no faeries in Middleton.

The end.

Michael didn't know how much of it he was supposed to think was true. Sure, he'd definitely believed in faeries years ago, when he was hopeless and desperate for something to grasp onto. But he wasn't a child anymore. He was almost eighteen. He had a duty to the royal throne. He had people he cared about. He had a life. So now, he supposed he'd call himself a skeptic.

Sure, maybe there were faeries. Who could say for sure? More importantly, who _cared_? Wherever they were, they weren't here, and that's all that mattered to Michael. That's what he said to himself the night it all began, when, without warning, thoughts of faeries began to dance through his head.

"-you even listening?" Michael blinked and saw Jeremy frowning at him. They were walking down a path in the courtyard, not doing much of anything, really. Just talking, and admiring the plants. They were free to go wherever they chose until nightfall in about an hour, but admittedly, they rarely ventured outside the palace walls.

"What? Oh, uh, yes," he said, hoping Jeremy wouldn't call him out on this one.

"What did I just say?" Michael wondered, briefly, the point of hoping anything, ever. He ran a hand through his hair, and gave his friend a sheepish grin.

"Uh, you were talking... about... how much you love me?" Jeremy just kept on frowning. Which was discouraging, to say the least. "Sorry, I guess I was just spacing out..."

Jeremy smiled. "It's fine, dude. I'm serious though, you gotta hear this. You know Prince Dillinger is staying here for a few months?"

"And _King_ Dillinger, yes," Michael said, feeling that might be a somewhat more pertinent detail in their lives.

"Well, I was hanging around the kitchen with, you know, my... knightly duties-"

"Uh-huh, sure. What did Jenna say while you were eavesdropping?" Jeremy only wasted a moment trying to look innocent before breaking down.

"The word is," he said, lowering his voice to a whisper, "that it's for an arranged marriage." Michael jaw fell open.

"With Christine?"

"Her highness," Jeremy corrected, looking around nervously. Michael rolled his eyes.

"Dude, relax with that stuff, we're not even on duty."

"That doesn't mean you should be disrespectful."

"She's sick of all that formal stuff, Jer. Isn't it more disrespectful to do things she hates?" He said the second part innocently, with his eyebrows raised and a hand over his heart. Jeremy scoffed and shook his head.

"Fuck you, dude. You're gonna get banished one day, I swear."

"If I get banished, it's not gonna be because I forgot to call my friend by a fancy title, it's gonna be because the apple tree we tried to secretly plant by the bench finally started growing in." Jeremy burst into laughter.

Now, when Jeremy laughed like that (heart-stopping, breathtaking, like he didn't even know what it could do to a person), there were a lot of things that could, theoretically, happen around Michael that he would fail to notice. For example: If you stole his sword from its sheath at the same time as Jeremy laughed, Michael would be none the wiser. In fact, if you planned to steal all of Michael's armor, right off of his body, there would be no better time than right then. Or, if you were to perhaps shoot an arrow at him, just as Jeremy's lips parted and that first hiss of laughter escaped, Michael would undoubtedly be severely injured.

So it was surprising he noticed what happened at all. But to the right of the path, just as his heart fluttered, right as Jeremy Heere giggled at his joke in the middle of the courtyard, a rose bloomed. Michael stopped in his tracks. A single white rose, the only in sight. It had been a bud seconds earlier, Michael was almost certain. Which... that wasn't possible. Something was wrong.

"Michael?" Jeremy asked. "What are you..." He trailed off as he, too, noticed the flower. "That's strange," he said softly. "Only one, on the whole bush." Only one in the whole garden.

_Roses aren't supposed to bloom for another five weeks_ , Michael thought. He opened his mouth to say it, but stopped himself at the last moment. It felt wrong, somehow, to call attention to that piece of information. It felt like shedding light on something that wasn't supposed to be seen. He wasn't entirely sure what he had just witnessed, but he had an illogical and unshakable feeling that it had something to do with him.

Suddenly he felt like someone had punched him in the gut. He doubled over, clutching his stomach. Jeremy was at his side in an instant, placing a warm hand on his arm.

"Woah, woah, Michael, are you okay?"

He nodded. "I'm- I'm fine, my stomach was just..."

"Are you going to be sick?" Michael choked out a laugh.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "No, it's starting to feel better, I think." And it was, if only a little. Dulling to an ache rather than a sharp throb. This wasn't right. Something was wrong. He didn't understand what, not yet, but he knew it was something. Something big, and something coming at him fast.

"I think we should take you to the infirmary," Jeremy said, putting an arm around him and beginning to guide him out of the courtyard.

"No no no no no no," Michael said quickly, withdrawing from Jeremy's grip. "Just take me back to the racks, I'm okay, I swear. I don't want to bother Brooke-"

"It's her job to care for the sick, Michael-"

"I'm not sick!" he protested. "It's probably just something I ate. I'll feel better in the morning, I just need to rest." He was trying to convince himself just as much as he was Jeremy. Rest. That's all he needed. It'd all be fine in the morning. In the morning it'd all be laughable, the stomachache and the rose and- Jeremy was staring at him strangely. "What?"

"Your eyes... they..." Jeremy paused for a moment and then shook his head. "Sorry, it was nothing. I'm not going to be able to convince you to check in with Brooke, am I?"

"No..." Michael said slowly, still trying to figure out what Jeremy had been trying to say. There was still a slight pain in his stomach, and aside from that, his whole body was beginning to feel weighted down. Maybe he really did just need to sleep. Jeremy sighed loudly.

"Okay," he said. "Let's get you to the racks, then." He put his arm back around him, and Michael leaned into it, grateful for the support. Jeremy led him into the palace, down halls and upstairs until they arrived at their destination.

The racks was what the knights' quarters had been unofficially named long ago, and though Michael assumed it was short for barracks, no one really knew for sure. The princess slept in her wing, the servants slept in the servants quarters, and the knights slept in the racks. It was just the way things were. Michael was leaning heavily on Jeremy at this point, beginning to fall asleep even as they walked toward their beds. Jeremy helped Michael out of his uniform, which Michael might have felt uncomfortable with if he wasn't so damn tired, and then Michael fell into bed with a sigh. Jeremy put the covers over him.

"Jer?" he said softly as his eyes closed.

"Yeah?" Jeremy's voice was fond. Jeremy was so nice, Jeremy did all these nice things for him, he was so... nice.

For one horrifying second, Michael was about to say _I love you_. The words were on the tip of his tongue, teetering on the edge of his lips, just begging to fall out. The terror that shot through his body when he realized that woke him up enough to stop himself. Jeremy was still looking at him, with that smile, and that hair, and those eyes, those ocean blue eyes. Michael opened his mouth again, careful to not let it make the shape of those three words.

"Thanks a bunch," he said quietly.

"No problem," said Jeremy. "That's what friends are for. Get some sleep, okay?" Michael nodded, beginning to drift off once more.

He thought he would he sleep soundly, based on how exhausted he felt. Instead, he was restless all night, with dreams that were a bit too vivid, and a bit too uneasy. Dreams that weren't frightening, per se, but left him on edge when he awoke. White roses and Jeremy Heere and trees in the vague shape of a person. He found himself staring at the ceiling many times in the night. Something inside his brain was screaming at him, some alarm that he couldn't figure out how to turn off. _Something's wrong_ , the voice said as he turned over yet again. _Something's coming._

_This is only the beginning._


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wild Chloe Valentine appears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't expect every chapter to come this fast ;p

He went to bed tired, and he woke up even more tired. Michael supposed that sometimes that was just the way it went. He rolled out of bed with a groan. Jeremy was already awake, putting his armor on over his clothes.

"Hey Michael," he said.

"Hey," Michael replied, yawning.

"You sleep okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good." He took off his sleep shirt and walked over to the small drawer his uniform was kept. In truth, he hadn't slept well. He hadn't been sleeping well since the event in the courtyard two weeks ago. There was this sort of buzzing feeling in his skull, and the harder he tried to ignore it, the stronger it got. Jeremy was staring at him. "Seriously dude, I'm fine," Michael reassured him. Jeremy coughed.

"Right, yeah, sorry," he said quickly, turning away. Michael frowned as he pulled the shirt of his uniform over his head. Jeremy had been acting a bit weird lately, and he wasn't sure why. He brushed it aside. They were probably both a bit stressed about King Dillinger coming. Everyone was. Even Christine, though she hid it to the best of her ability.

They headed out into the hall, only to be met with a voice calling after them.

"Sir Jeremy! Sir Michael!" They both paused, turned around.

Deep brown eyes. Hair that was light at the tips but grew darker as it trailed up to her scalp. Full knight's garb and an intimidating stance. Her lips were curled into a friendly smile and Michael still felt the urge to run away before she pounded them into the dirt.

Orphan instincts, he guessed.

"Sir Chloe," Jeremy said brightly. "Was there something you needed?"

Sir Chloe Valentine was the newest addition to the ranks of the palace guard. She had arrived the day after the... rose incident. Which, of course, only added to the unreasonable suspicion Michael had of her. He really should be more welcoming, he knew, she did seem like a sweet girl. But he didn't always take well to new people, and there was just something about her that made the buzzing inside him feel worse. Orphan instincts didn't quite explain it.

"I was just wondering if you would walk me to the banquet hall? I'm still learning my way around," she said with a sheepish smile.

Jeremy nodded. "Of course. We were just heading there now."

"I haven't gotten to get really meet you two yet," she said as they started walking again. "How long have you known each other?" Michael frowned. Why was she asking questions? What right did she have to swoop in here and invade their privacy and-

"Almost ten years now," Jeremy replied, nudging Michael in the arm. Right. Try to be welcoming.

"Yep," he said, and his smile felt forced and frozen on his face. He tried to think of something to add. "Uh, yeah... He and his dad caught me trying to steal bread from a vendor in the market." He mentally hit himself. Why the fuck had he said that? He didn't usually tell people. Chloe's eyes flashed with something briefly, and then she was back to her neutral expression before Michael could figure out what it was.

"Oh?" she said, eyebrows furrowing. "Why were you stealing bread?"

 _What kind of dumbass question_ , Michael thought. How many reasons did she think there could be?

"I was hungry," he said coolly. Jeremy took his hand, maybe because he needed it, or maybe because he thought Michael needed it. Either way, it was nice. But ultimately, it failed to distract from the uncomfortable road this conversation was heading down. Chloe was still staring him right in the eye.

"Didn't your parents try to stop you?" She put a weird emphasis on the word _parents_. And she still had that expression on her face, curious and quizzical, but almost too so to be authentic. He felt Jeremy tense next to him at the question.

"No," Michael said sullenly, tearing his gaze away in favor of looking at the ground. He didn't want to be having this conversation, and he especially didn't want to be having it with this specific person. He decided not to go into anymore detail.

"I'm an orphan," he said suddenly, the words seeming to push themselves out of his mouth. "I never knew them." Michael snapped his jaw shut. He expected her to gasp, to try to backtrack, to offer an apology for bringing it up, but instead she smiled, her eyes brightening.

"Oh, what a coincidence," Chloe said slowly, staring him right in the eyes. "So am I." Then she winked at him. Fucking winked. Like they were sharing a joke only the two of them knew, instead of talking about how their parents were dead. That wasn't even the strangest thing. The strangest thing was that as soon as she'd said it, he'd gotten this inexplicable feeling that she was lying. He couldn't have known. She didn't have any obvious tells, her eye didn't twitch, she wasn't fidgeting. He couldn't have known, and yet he did.

Michael wanted to leave her right then, to just turn in the other direction and walk away as fast as he could. But he couldn't do that, so instead he stared straight ahead and prayed she'd get the message that the conversation was over. It alarmed him that he had shared all that stuff with her. It was like that one night, when he'd almost told Jeremy... he guessed he just needed to be more careful. But it was a bit alarming to realize that he was having trouble keeping thoughts in his head where they belonged.

They finally reached the banquet hall, where Captain Reyes and the rest of the guard was already waiting for them.

"Get in line for your assignments," the captain instructed. "It's a big day, King Dillinger will be arriving in a few hours." Fuck, Michael had almost forgotten that that was today. 

They all got in line and stood while one by one, the knights were given their rotations for the day. Sir Mia and Sir Jeffery were in the east wing. Sir Riley and Sir Sarah were west. Sir Joseph was on meal delivery. Finally, their names were called.

"Sir Jeremy, Sir Michael, you are both to guard Her Highness's room." He and Jeremy both nodded. Since they were the most trusted by Christine, they were usually put in the royal wing. They were, in a way, almost her personal guards. Except, of course, she hadn't chosen a personal guard yet, and when she did, she would only be permitted to choose one. (Jeremy would never let him wish this out loud, but Michael hoped with all of his heart that his friend was chosen when Christine was ready to decide. They both knew he didn't need hoping, though; Christine had known him for years before she'd even met Michael. He was practically guaranteed to get the position.)

"Sir Chloe," the Captain continued. "Door duty, in the throne room."

Chloe nodded, accepting the job without so much as a frown. Michael almost felt bad for her. He remembered getting door duty almost every day his first couple years here. It was a boring rotation, standing still as possible by the door, with no one to talk to. But, he supposed someone had to do it, and who better than the rookies?

As she left to find the throne room, she turned to him.

"I expect I'll be seeing more of you soon, Sir Michael," she said, and there it was again, that twinkle in her eye like she was sharing a secret with him. Michael nodded stiffly, watching her exit the banquet hall with long, graceful strides.

"Dude, what was that about?" Jeremy whispered.

"I have no idea," he whispered back. And he really, really didn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:
> 
> \- Idk how it actually worked in medieval times but in this universe knights are basically just guards. In times of war they would be soldiers but Middleton is a pretty peaceful kingdom (or is it). 
> 
> \- Was Jeremy staring at Michael at the beginning of the chapter because a) He thought something was wrong b) His eyes seemed to change color for a second c) He was shirtless or d) All of the above
> 
> \- The answer is d and the color his eyes turned was pink
> 
> \- "Wait, his eyes change color? Since when do his eyes change color?!" you cry. "You haven't explained literally anything!" I don't answer. You continue to scream at me as I watch you, a small smile on my face. You reach for me, but your hand wraps around emptiness. I am not really there. I never have been. You are only fooling yourself.
> 
> \- No i didn't forget Chloe's eye color. I had to change it for the sake of the story.
> 
> \- What's up with Chloe? Idk *sweats nervously, for I do, in fact, k*
> 
> \- I realized while reading over this that there's like a 68% of people typing the lyrics from Aaron Burr, Sir, in the comments. I accept my fate.
> 
> \- More details on Captain Reyes coming up next. And also what a knight on a "food delivery" rotation does.
> 
> \- I guess you're gonna meet Christine soon maybe? That'll be fun.
> 
> \- Thank you for reading, I'll see you next chapter ;)


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys hang with Christine and talk about life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got an amazing beta!!! Thanks @HomorAmong

"Okay, but just... do you think she was flirting with you?" Jeremy asked him in a rush.

They were still standing in the banquet hall, neither of them wanting to give up on the conversation yet. Michael froze for a second before bursting into laughter.

"Jer, if you think that's what flirting looks like, I am worried about you." Jeremy laughed too, but he looked uncomfortable. There was a pause while Michael waited for him to speak. When he didn't, Michael prompted gently. "Say what's on your mind?" he asked. Jeremy fidgeted for a moment before continuing.

"I'm just... I'm sorry she asked about that stuff. I didn't realize when I invited her along that things would get so personal, and..." he trailed off.

"Dude it's fine," Michael reassured him. "Don't blame yourself. Whatever weird shit she was trying to do is all on her, okay?"

"Okay." Michael smiled, and Jeremy smiled back, and maybe it was wishful thinking, but it seemed genuine this time. Michael wished he would smile more often.

Suddenly Jeremy was frowning at him, and then looking around the room. It made Michael kind of wish that he could just think about something without the exact opposite happening. "Jer?" he said.

"I think something's up with the lighting."

"I... what? Why?"

"I swear your eyes looked, like, green or something for a second." Michael frowned and followed his gaze to the ceiling, where a chandelier hung decorated lavishly with candles and jewels. All of the candles were lit, and nothing seemed to be amiss.

"Huh," Michael said.

"I'm not crazy, I swear!" Jeremy said, taking in the look on Michael's face. "They looked green!"

"I'm not saying you're crazy," Michael replied, putting his hands up defensively. "I'm just saying you might want to get your eyes checked." Jeremy snorted.

"Yeah right. You're just jealous of my 20/20 visi-"

"Sir Michael! Sir Jeremy!" a voice called. Jeremy jumped, cutting himself off. The Captain was approaching them, face red and angry. "What are you blubbering idiots doing just standing around? You are to go to your posts at once." The two knights both stood up straighter and nodded. "Good. And where is Sir Joseph?" he shouted to the (now mostly empty) room. "He was supposed to fetch me my breakfast five minutes ago!"

Captain Reyes ate thirteen small meals equally spaced throughout the day. Three of them he called breakfast, four were lunch, five were dinner, and one was called "dark meal" that he had brought to his quarters at midnight each night. He chose a knight and relieved them of their duties so that they could deliver his meals for the day.

It was a dreaded rotation, but in all honesty it wasn't the worst one. There was always the dungeon (it was dark and musty and sometimes the prisoners were just rambling creepy nonsense). Or the watchtower (pretty at first, but it got boring as shit after a few hours and Jeremy didn't like heights). Michael knew they were both extraordinarily lucky Christine was so fond of them, because the captain sure wasn't, and he was just the kind of person who would put them on awful rotations everyday if he could, just to blow off steam.

Captain Reyes would have been Lord Reyes had he not accepted the position of head of the guard. And Michael supposed he understood that, not wanting only a title, but desiring to be someone of real import. For even though Reyes was the brother of the queen, he was the kind of person others tended to overlook. And since he wasn't directly in line for the throne, no one particularly cared about him. So now he spent his days ordering young knights around and eating his many, many meals.

It was almost tragic, in a way.

Michael shrugged off the thought as he and Jeremy left the room. They walked together through the numerous halls and stairwells leading to Christine's wing of the palace. Well, technically it was the royal wing, which she shared with her parents, but their bedrooms were so far apart you couldn't tell.

Michael knocked four times rhythmically on the door. It flung open and there was Christine, grinning ear to ear.

"My favorite knights!" she said in a sing-song voice. "Are you here to save me from all the murderers and assassins hiding in my room?"

"But of course, Your Highness," Michael replied, eyebrows raised playfully. "This takes precedent over patrolling, wouldn't you say, Sir Jeremy?" Jeremy hesitated, he always hesitated, but then he nodded.

"Please, Your Highness," Michael said, "show us to the assassins, if you would." She opened the door wide enough for them to enter.

"They're right over there, under the bed..." She closed the door behind them. "Okay. There's tea on the table if you want any."

Christine's room was breathtakingly huge, with ornate carvings in the furniture and a chandelier hanging above her bed. But it always felt strangely cramped, what with the books stacked haphazardly on top of her desk, the bookshelf in the corner overflowing. Clothes were draped across the back of the sofa, and jewelry was hanging off the dresser knobs. There was a tea tray on the table between the couch and two armchairs. Michael and Jeremy took a seat on the couch with Christine facing them in one of the chairs. She poured them each a cup.

They were breaking a multitude of rules, but they did it so often the fear of being punished had all but vanished. They were supposed to be patrolling the halls outside, unless there was an emergency. But no one would make the journey to this part of the castle for a few hours, when Christine would be fetched for a riding lesson (or, Michael supposed, today for welcoming the King and Prince Dillinger to the palace).

And even if they did get caught, Christine could probably do some princess shit to get them out of it or something.

When they had finished their tea, Christine said she had to show them her new dress. She walked over to where it hung off a post of her bed and and pulled it off. Then she took off the one she had and left it on the floor. Jeremy threw his gaze to the ground faster than an arrow flying from a bow, blushing madly. Michael rolled his eyes. Jeremy had had a crush on Christine when they were all kids, and though he'd mostly gotten over it as they'd grown older, he still refused to look at her without a dress on. It wasn't like she was naked or anything, she still had on her underclothes, which weren't exactly revealing. But Jeremy was insistent in his ways.

After Christine had pulled the new dress on over her head she said, "Could one of you help with the lacing?" Since Jeremy was still preoccupied with averting his gaze, Michael pushed himself off the couch and tightened the back of the dress before tying it off. When he was done, he took a step back and she turned around, looking down at it. It was beautiful, robins egg blue in a satin-like fabric, with almost invisible golden embroidery.

"I'm technically supposed to wear this one to a royal dinner with the prince and king," she told them. "But it's a ball gown, so it's really... you know, poofy? Which I have no problem with on an aesthetic level, but that means it's also scratchy and will suck to sit still in for that long." They nodded. She had told them many times about the horrors of ball gowns. She sighed. "I'm thinking about just letting Brooke wear it. She seemed to really like it when I showed it to her earlier."

"What will you wear, then?" Jeremy asked.

"Well," she said, a smile returning to her face. "Let me... show you..." She reached back to untie the knot Michael had done, and within seconds the blue dress was thrown across the room. She dug through her wardrobe, and pulled out a new dress. She slipped it on and spun around, modeling it for them. It was a deep purple gown lined with gold, that draped around her figure instead of expanding outward. "And see, it's not as fancy as the ball gown, but I could wear my circlet with it so it _looks_ fancier." She lifted it from where it laid on her desk and placed it on her head delicately. "What do you think?"

"You look great," Michael informed her. And she did. More important than that, she looked comfortable, and happy. He had known her for years, and more than anything, Michael wanted Christine to be happy.

"Amazing," Jeremy chimed in. She smiled brightly at them. She changed back into her dress from before (it was purple as well, a lighter lavender color, with rose highlights), but left the circlet on, since she was going to be meeting the visiting royalty soon enough, and that called for a bit of a grandiose appearance anyway. They talked for a while longer, before Jeremy started fidgeting. Christine noticed it after a couple minutes.

"What's on your mind?" she asked him. He swallowed.

"Well, we... _I_ was wondering... is it true that Prince Jake is coming here for an arranged marriage with you?"

Christine froze.

"Sorry!" Jeremy backtracked, his face flushing with worry. "Sorry, you don't have to answer that, I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine," she said after a moment. "You don't need to apologize." She stood up and walked over to the window on the side of the room overlooking the courtyard. She didn't look at them as she spoke. "Yeah, my mom would very much like it if I married Prince Dillinger."

"But you don't want to?" Michael said slowly. This was veering into a dangerously personal direction, which is somewhere that knights definitely should not go with the crown princess, but was natural for friends to go together. An extremely gray area, in this case. But Michael didn't particularly care. Christine laughed bitterly and shook her head.

"No, of course I don't want to," she said softly. She turned her back to the window. "I don't even know him! I've never met him in my life, and I just... I feel like it's because my mom doesn't trust me to lead on my own, you know? Which is..." She shook her head and walked back over to them. "I know that I could," she said, like she had to convince them. "It might not seem like it to her, but I could rule over Middleton just fine. I mean, that's never been like, my dream, which is why my mom thinks what she does, but she's wrong. Just because I haven't always exactly _wanted_ to be queen doesn't mean I _couldn't_ be."

She sighed and sat down, staring up at the ceiling. "Who knows," she said. "Maybe the prince is a sweet guy. Maybe he's being forced into this too. But maybe he's some creep or something who doesn't respect my boundaries, I don't know, I've never met him, he could be _anyone_."

"Well if he is a creep, let us know, okay?" Jeremy said. "We'd totally fight a prince for you."

"Yeah, definitely," Michael agreed. Christine laughed.

"Well, that does make me feel a bit better. And when you get banished for beating up a crown prince, I promise I'll run away with you."

"Where would we go, Your Highness?" Jeremy asked. Christine's eyes glimmered with ideas.

"We could go to Kelings. Northern, not southern. They have the best theater troops in all the land. I could become a thespian."

"I'd get a job in the palace," Michael said. "Maybe a groundskeeper."

"Gardening?" Christine asked. He nodded, wondering if he should explain or defend his choice or something, but she just shrugged. "Awesome. What about you, Jeremy?"

"I, uh..." There was a long pause while he considered it, a thoughtful expression on his face. Michael wanted to kiss him when he looked like that, his brow furrowed and him chewing on his bottom lip. Michael wanted to kiss him all the time, actually, but wow, when he looked like that he was so, so, so, _so_ \- Michael shivered suddenly, as a weird sensation washed over him. It felt like he pricked his finger, but in his entire body. It only lasted a second, before it was gone.

It was far too quiet, and he realized why a second later: the buzzing feeling that had become a constant in his head over the past few days was gone. It was almost disconcerting.

"I think I would be a knight again," Jeremy said, breaking the silence. Michael burst out laughing, the strangeness forgotten.

" _Dude_!" he wheezed. "You could be anything in the damn world and you choose knight?" Jeremy blushed.

"It's what I've always done," he said defensively.

"It's all I _know_!" Christine mocked with exaggerated sorrow. She mimed a tear falling down her face. Jeremy was redder than a rose.

"You asked me a question and I answered it, I don- Michael?" Michael didn't respond. He _couldn't_ respond, because he was pretty sure he'd just been stabbed in the stomach. He didn't see his assailant but surely there couldn't be another explanation for how much it fucking hurt. He heard Christine and Jeremy saying things but his brain had stopped translating sound into meaning.

He clutched his stomach tightly, hoping maybe if he kept pressure on it, the pain would go away and maybe it would stop him from losing too much blood, if he was bleeding. Which it quickly registered he wasn't, because of course he hadn't been stabbed, it was just like the night in the courtyard, he was just... sick. He was very sick and needed rest, or maybe he really _should_ go to the infirmary, which apparently Jeremy was already thinking because strong arms were wrapping around him and helping him to his feet.

Michael's legs were barely holding him up, Jeremy was doing most of the work himself. When Michael realized this, he smiled a little through the pain (which was still intense even as it began to dull).

"Thank you Jer," he said, his words slurring and running together.

"Shhh, Michael, don't talk, I'm taking you to Brooke, okay?"

"You're so nice," he said, and then he noticed blackness at the edge of his vision. _Shit_. He was going to pass out, wasn't he? "Shit." He turned to Jeremy, panicked. "I'm not gonna... I'm..." The blackness spread, and the room was fading fast.

"Michael?" Jeremy said, also panicking. "Christine, help me, I think he's gonna-" Michael's knees buckled, and everything went quiet.

As Jeremy and Christine helped drag an unconscious Michael to the infirmary, neither of them noticed it. (Christine would later, when she was alone, but she wouldn't think anything of it, and would return to her book after only a few seconds). There, by the bed, was a potted plant that Brooke had given to Christine for a birthday years ago. It had been slowly dying since then, withering away from infrequent and irregular waterings. But now. Now it was healthy and growing, with bright green leaves and a multitude of small purple flowers. And before you ask, no. No, it didn't have something to do with Michael.

It had _everything_ to do with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: 
> 
> \- Okay see now I'm being obvious about the eye color changes.
> 
> \- Did they put candles in chandeliers. Did they use candles at all....... Accurate depiction of medieval lighting? Idk her.
> 
> \- I didn't know the medieval equivalent of a hot pocket so now no one knows what Reyes is eating. They're just meals. He could be eating actual hot pockets. Who knows. 
> 
> \- Michael and Jeremy having a secret knock for Christine's door is the highlight of this chapter tbh. 
> 
> \- I went into way too much detail about Christine's dresses but I could see them in my head and they were beautiful.
> 
> \- [ For reference](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/a9/4b/3c/a94b3c5c26e549401bde876789a39419.jpg), [the blue dress](https://www.polyvore.com/cgi/img-thing?.out=jpg&size=l&tid=13618681)
> 
> \- [Purple](https://ae01.alicdn.com/kf/HTB1g1HuLpXXXXcZXpXXq6xXFXXXT/purple-renaissance-Queen-Costume-Women-cosplay-adult-medieval-long-Ball-Gowns-halloween-costumes-for-women-party.jpg_640x640.jpg) [dress](https://ae01.alicdn.com/kf/HTB1s6EOOFXXXXaKXVXXq6xXFXXXJ/ROLECOS-Medieval-Renaissance-Victorian-Women-Evening-Dresses-Medieval-Noble-Costumes-Masquerade-Party-Ball-Gown-Dresses-Costumes.jpg)
> 
> \- For the lavender one maybe something like [ this](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/2a/1f/d2/2a1fd2b8e6d4ae4c8f2e1f67fca7d664--purple-prom-dresses-formal-prom-dresses.jpg)? idk I couldn't find a good one.
> 
> \- Christine has more freedom than I think would be probably realistic for the crown princess but I love her so much I would never take that away from her.
> 
> \- And Jeremy's dad used to be a knight and was friends with the king so that's why he and Christine have known each other for so long. Would it actually be possible for this friendship to sustain itself with medieval social norms? Idk. I don't know medieval social norms.
> 
> \- "Liz," you desperately plea. "Why haven't you done any research for this fic?" I look at you from my spot, lounging on a comfortable sofa. 
> 
> "Uhh listen sweaty :)" I tell you. "You've got suspension of disbelief right?" 
> 
> You frown, wondering how I was able to insert a smiley face into a spoken sentence. "I... yes?"
> 
> I shrug. "Just use that. I ain't being paid to research shit." I smile, and it terrifies you. Then I'm gone, and you can't remember what you had asked me, or what I had responded. It's as if it never happened. Your heart is pounding and you don't know why. Or you do, but you pretend that you don't, pushing the memory down until it's lost into oblivion. You eat macaroni and cheese from a box, and you go to sleep, dissatisfied with your choices and disappointed with your life.
> 
> \- Is this story from Michael's POV or an omniscient narrator's?? Haha idk both?? I'm just switching whenever it's convenient. 
> 
> \- Next chapter will feature Brooke and maybe some special guests ;) stay tuned and thanks for reading both the chapter and my rambling end notes.


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael wakes up in the infirmary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!! Sorry for the wait! School started a few weeks ago and it's been a fucking trip.

It was bright when Michael first awoke. There was a terrible smell, and voices. Voices he knew but didn't have time to place, because after only a few seconds of consciousness something cool touched his forehead and everything faded again.

The second time, it was dark and still, and everything was quiet. Moonlight was streaming in from a nearby window, and he knew immediately he was in the infirmary, because the racks didn't have any windows. He sat up slowly, groaning at the sudden disagreement every part of his body seemed to have with that action. He had never ached so _completely_. His head was throbbing, and his stomach felt like he'd eaten a handful of rocks.

"Oh, you're awake!" He startled at a voice from the other side of the room. Brooke was just walking in from the hallway, carefully carrying what must have been at least a dozen small vials in her arms. She popped open a drawer with her foot and began to place them inside, one by one. "How are you feeling?" she asked him as she put the last couple down.

"I feel like I got ran over by a fucking horse," he said through gritted teeth.

"Hang on a sec, I've got something for that," she said, standing on her toes to grab a small jar from atop a high shelf. She opened it up and plucked out a bright green leaf.

She handed the leaf to him. It was soft between his fingertips.

"Bokka leaf. You eat it. It's fast acting, should last about an hour," she said. He did as she instructed, and the leaf almost instantly dissolved on his tongue. It was minty, and chilled him to the bone. A shiver ran through him and he began to feel numb.

"How long have I been out?" he asked.

"It's about two in the morning, so you've been asleep around eighteen hours."

"Jeez," he mumbled. That was a long time, he knew that even through the mist that was descending on his mind. Fast acting Michael's ass, instantaneous was more like it.

"Yeah, people are always surprised at how much rest they really need," Brooke said with a smile and a shrug.

_Why did I pass out? What caused all this pain? What's wrong with me?_ he wanted to ask.

Instead, he said: "Why am I here?" Which. Close, but not what he was going for. Brooke nodded sagely, because of course she understood what he meant, she probably talked to patients high on painkillers all the time.

"It's still a bit unclear, but... exhaustion is pretty common among knights, and it's the most likely explanation for your symptoms." That didn't make sense. Exhaustion would explain the passing out, maybe, but not any of the pain he'd felt beforehand. Or the buzzing, he _really_ wanted an explanation for the buzzing. He could still feel it now, through the haze. He wanted to express all of this.

"It hurt," he said intelligently. Brooke frowned.

"Well, like I said, it's... unclear. But... Michael, have you—" She cut off, looking around briefly, before continuing, voice low. "Have you ever heard of faeries?"

"What?" Michael asked. He didn't grasp the question, or understand what it had to do with anything.

"It's... Nothing, it's nothing, sorry," Brooke said with a small laugh. "Just some research stuff. We can talk when you're not hopped up on painkillers."

"Okay," Michael agreed with a sigh. She walked back over to the other side of the room, where she took the jar of Bakko leaves, picked a few out, and closed it. She put it back on the shelf, mumbling something and placing the leaves in her pocket. There was a long stretch of silence while he tried to remember what time Brooke had said it was, because hadn't it been really, really late? Or early? Either way...

"You should be sleeping," he said to Brooke. She turned and stared a moment, surprised. Then she laughed, walking back over to him.

"Thanks for the concern Michael, but I'm not tired. Besides," she added, tapping him on the nose, "I have a patient to attend to." He blinked. "If there's anyone you should be shaming for staying up late it's totally Jeremy. He only left a few hours ago, and that was when I threatened to have him forcibly escorted back to the racks." She shook her head with an amused smile. Then her eyes widened. "Oh, shit, right, I should go tell him you're awake."

"What? No, no!" Michael said, feeling a little bit of the fog dissipate from his mind at the thought. "Please don't wake him up, I'll see him in the morning." Brooke gave him a look not unlike one a mother would give an especially stubborn child. She sighed slowly, deliberately, and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"I mean, knowing Jeremy," she began, looking at Michael with raised eyebrows. "He's probably not asleep at all. He's probably been lying in bed for hours, torturing himself with wondering if you're okay." Michael frowned and cursed inwardly (maybe outwardly too), realizing she was absolutely right. Once, when they were younger, Christine had fallen ill with papry flu. Jeremy had been worried out of his mind, and had visited her so often that within a week he was sick too.

Brooke shrugged pointedly and continued, "And he probably won't sleep the rest of the night either, he'll just toss and turn, and ask himself if maybe you'll never wake up ever agai—" Michael cut her off with a groan.

"Okay, okay, I geddit I geddit," he slurred. "You can go get him already." She gave him a smug smile, like the conversation was a game that she had just won. Then she pushed herself off the bed and left.

There were a few quiet minutes in which Michael was alone in the room. He looked around. It was dark, but there was enough light from the window to see his surroundings. And _shit_. He was sure he'd noticed this before at some point, but. There were plants _everywhere_. Like, _everywhere_ everywhere.

On every shelf and counter, in every cabinet and chest, every available surface was covered with bottles of glowing liquid, dried flowers and grasses, bowls of salves and little tins of powder. There were books too, he couldn't read the titles from here but he could only assume they were about plants as well. It was a very Brooke thing.

Brooke was the most renowned herbalist this side of the Furies. People came from all over the kingdom for her elixirs and cures, and the queen herself had hired her as the palace's official medic. And it wasn't just that she was good at mixing things or whatever. She knew plants. Like, really knew them. Almost everything he knew, he'd learned from her. He'd watched her work many times, had seen the way she touched each flower and leaf like it was a living person. She'd told him once, when they were younger, that she could remember exactly what a plant could do by feeling it. Could figure out which ones would bounce off each other to create entirely new effects, which ones would bring out the best in a potion, all with a touch of her finger.

(He'd snuck off to the greenhouse that day, had tried to see if he could tell, too. He couldn't. Brooke truly had a gift.)

She was also fearless. If she had any desire to, she could have been an amazing knight. Though even Michael had to admit that combined with her natural talent, her bravery made her far better suited for this job.

See, Brooke spent a dangerous amount of time in the Borough, the dense woods just outside the kingdom. The ones where the sun didn't quite reach, and the undergrowth seemed to grab at your ankles and hold you there, and the birds didn't sing, as if they too were afraid of something. The ones teenagers dared each other to enter, only to lose their confidence as they stood before the looming tree line. The ones they told stories about.

These stories, differing greatly from the soothing tales and legends the caretakers recited, were usually told by the older kids at the orphanage to scare the younger ones. (And scare they did. Michael hadn't been able to sleep at all the night Lena Durskin had told him of the wolf people.) They were usually about what a person might find in the Borough (or what might find them), but the subject was in constant flux, a continuous cycle of old creatures and new. There were the wolf people, of course. Or goblins, who leaped from the trees, latching onto the heads of travelers and clawing at their eyes with ragged nails. Faeries that, if these stories were to be believed, had been hiding in those woods since the Great War, waiting for their revenge on the humans. Maisen, who lived underground and only came to the surface to hunt, dragging their prey beneath the forest floor and giving them a slow death of suffocation. Dragons, trolls, hylias, elves, pretty much any creature you could come up with, they were said to live in those woods. Sometimes, the villain of the story was the Borough itself, the plants and trees coming to life, the forest seeking justice against any that dare tread on its hidden beauty.

Whatever the antagonist, it didn't matter. The ending was always the same: _And they were never seen in Middleton ever again._ The whole thing might not have been so frightening if there hadn't been actual reports of disappearances in those woods, real life imitations of a childrens' cautionary tale. The Borough was where people went if they wanted to become a part of those stories.

Brooke didn't care. Every few weeks, she would run out of powdered agnes root, or vixen petals. _Which we can't grow in the greenhouse,_ he remembers her telling him one day, as she laced up her boots and pulled on her cloak. _They need wild soil. I'll be back in a day or two, I promise._ And she was. Brooke said she's never seen wolves or goblins or any of the like. But there was a glint in her eyes when she talked about the forest, like there were some secrets that only she and the Borough would ever know.

Michael wasn't going to lie and say he didn't worry about her going in there alone all the time. But she could handle herself, and refused to take the guards Christine tried to send with her.

The abundance of plants in the infirmary made him uncomfortable.

Normally, Michael loved plants. Truly he did. On his off days he liked nothing more than wandering in the courtyard, or hanging around Brooke while she worked, or even using Brooke's key to secretly enter the greenhouse (accessible only to a few of the palace staff, which included Brooke, Jenna, the groundskeeper, and definitely not Michael). When he was in those places, usually he felt calm. Usually, he felt at peace.

But here, right now, all of the plants in the room were suffocating him. Screaming at him. Making a soundless sort of noise, a vibration, a buzzing. He wished it would stop. Everywhere else was numb but somehow his head was just a steady hum of discomfort. It was weird. He didn't like it.

Suddenly, a different sound reached Michael's ears, footsteps echoing in the hall. Footsteps that were light and long and definitely running, and then Jeremy was standing in the doorway, breathing heavily. There were shadows under his eyes, but his smile was bright enough to drown them out.

"You're okay," he said, voice filled with relief.

"I'm okay," Michael repeated uselessly. Jeremy smiled and then flung himself at Michael, arms tight around his chest, face buried in his shoulder. Michael hesitated for a fraction of a second before reciprocating, arms coming up to wrap around Jeremy's waist. For a moment, Michael forgot about the buzzing, and succumbed to the feeling of being warm and safe and okay in Jeremy's arms.

Jeremy drew back with a small contented sigh, sitting on the edge of the bed. Then he turned his gaze to the floor, which concerned Michael; he only did that when he was overthinking.

"Hey man, you okay?" he asked gently. Jeremy nodded and let out a breathy laugh.

"I'm fine, I just... I, uh, I knew you were gonna be all right, but I just... Brooke kept saying you'd wake up, and I _knew_ you would but you just kept... not, waking up, and I was uh... I was just getting kinda worried that, that you know, maybe you, maybe you just wouldn't wake up a-at all, and I—"

"Hey, hey, Jer, bud, look at me, okay?" Jeremy cut off and looked up from his fidgeting hands. His eyes were wide and searching. Michael wanted to make everything okay. He wanted to tell Jeremy that this was just exhaustion and tomorrow everything would be completely back to normal. He wanted to tell Jeremy that everything was going to be just fine, forever. Hell, he wanted to tell _himself_ that. But his mouth wouldn't form the words. His mind wouldn't form the thought.

Every idea in his head was becoming a bit more fuzzy, a bit more indistinct. The Bokka leaf was gently tugging him back into sleep. But Jeremy's eyes were so clear, like moonlight cutting through the mist.

And there were those words again. Those three words. There was no teetering or tumbling this time around. Now they were clawing at the back of his throat, pushing up with vicious force. Michael found himself clenching his jaw shut just to keep the sentence at bay. He wanted to tell him. He _had_ to tell him.

He couldn't tell him.

Jeremy was still staring, and Michael swallowed the phrase down with force.

"I'm all right, dude. I'm here, and I'm all right. It's gonna take a bit more than a stomach ache to get rid of me." Jeremy laughed a little at that.

"I'm glad you're okay," he said, his eyes flicking down to Michael's lips and his hands becoming still— wait, what? Had Jeremy just glanced at Michael's lips? It had been too quick to tell. He had though, right? Maybe if he did it again, then Michael could know for sure, if he did it again then maybe Michael could lean in a little closer, and then...

He didn't do it again.

It was quiet for a long time before Jeremy yawned, and then asked, "Hey, can I... could I sleep in here? I just... it's kind of—"

"Of course, yeah."

Jeremy executed a weird rolling move over Michael, before settling on his other side, squished up against the wall. A laugh bubbled low in Michael's throat.

"Dude, you could have... you could have just asked me to move..."

"Shhhhhh..." Jeremy mumbled, eyes closed. "This is better."

Michael smiled, bringing up a hand to run through Jeremy's hair. He was out in seconds. He really had been up all night. Michael tried not to feel too guilty about that.

He himself wasn't far behind on the sleep thing, his eyelids were weighing down heavily, and he had just decided to lie back down when he thought he saw motion from the corner of his vision. He turned.

There was a face not three feet from his. He clapped a hand over his mouth to stop himself from screaming.

"You were out a long time," Chloe Valentine said nonchalantly as Michael tried to stop his heart from beating out of his fucking chest. He looked down to see that Jeremy was still sleeping soundly. "Growing pains?" Chloe stressed the words as if they had a special meaning.

Michael frowned. Wait... maybe Jeremy was right. Maybe she really _was_ trying to flirt with him.

"Uh... I don't rea—"

"It's okay," she interrupted, putting her hands out like she was calming a horse. "I get them too."

Michael didn't know what to say to that. His head was buzzing, but also blurry. An unfocused sharpness behind his eyes. Was she making some sort of sexual reference? This was suddenly all a bit overwhelming for Michael.

"I'm, uh, I'm not really looki—"

"Listen," she said quietly, looking him square in the eye. "I'm on your side, I promise. But I can only help you if you're trying. This?" She gestured vaguely to the room. "Can't happen again. You don't want to attract any... unnecessary attention, understand?"

Michael nodded, even though he understood absolutely nothing. He could hear everything she was saying, but the words weren't processing in his brain. Was she flirting with him or not?

"Good," she said. "Us fair folk need to stick together, yeah?"

Oh fuck, she was totally flirting with him.

He opened his mouth to let her down (gently, of course). If he had, this story might have been much shorter. But for better or for worse, at that moment, there was a knock on the doorway of the room. Brooke's voice sounded from the hallway.

"Are you guys asleep?" she whisper-shouted. "Or fucking? I'm gonna have to ask you to refrain from fucking in the infirmary room beds." Michael's face grew hot, and he was suddenly very glad Jeremy was asleep. Brooke had been using this joke for about two years now, after a small outbreak of plyserine had landed several of the palace staff in the medical wing. At this point, Brooke had been only an assistant, and no one knew they had to have a rule about having sex in the infirmary.

Now there was a sign on the far wall, and Brooke always made sure to say something before entering the room when multiple people were inside. She came in now with a small laugh, carrying a kettle and a few pieces of firefruit in her arms.

"You know I'm just messing with you, guys, neither of you actually have the guts to have sex in the—"

Chloe stood abruptly, her chair clattering to the floor. Jeremy stirred, but, of course, didn't wake up (he slept like the fucking dead). Brooke startled, the fruit in her arms falling to the floor. "Oh fuck, I didn't see you there, I'm—"

"It's you," Chloe said quietly.

Brooke's mouth fell open.

"Shit," she said after a moment. "Shit, you're... sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt—"

Michael was beyond confused now. Chloe rushed over to help Brooke pick up the fruit.

"You didn't interrupt anything, Miss... er..."

"Brooke," she said, standing up and setting all of the fruit on a nearby counter. Chloe followed suit. "Just Brooke is fine. And you are...?"

"Sir Chloe," she responded, with speed enough to rival the palace's fastest stallion. "I was um, just on my way out, actually."

"Oh," Brooke said, a bit of disappointment creeping into her voice. "I'll see you around though?"

Chloe let out a nervous giggle.

"I, uh... yes, yes I think you will."

Chloe turned back to Michael, smile wide and brown eyes shining blue-green with reflected moonlight. "I'll be seeing you soon, I suspect. Try not to end up here again before I do, got it?"

Michael nodded, not understanding what was happening but having no plans to come back to the infirmary any time soon.

"Right, okay. Goodnight, Sir Michael, Brooke," she said

"Goodnight, Sir Chloe," Brooke replied as Chloe scurried from the room. Brooke's eyes followed her out the door. "You know her?" Michael asked her once Chloe was gone. Brooke jumped, as if she'd forgotten he was there, and then got right to work, not looking at him as she cut the tops off of the soft pink fruit.

"What? Um, no, no, not... not really. I mean, I've uh, I've seen her around the palace of course, and I knew _of_ her, but no, I don't really know her, I'd never... I'd never met her before—"

Michael can barely comprehend the seemingly unending stream of words flowing from Brooke's mouth with the speed of a hundred arrows.

"She... she seems nice," Brooke finished lamely as she poured the inside of the firefruit (a clear orange nectar that oozed from the opening at the top like sap) into a small glass jar.

"Sir Chloe?" Michael asked, raising his eyebrows. "Uh, nice isn't exactly the first word that comes to—"

"Anyway, that's off topic," Brooke interrupted with a dismissive gesture as she poured the contents of the kettle into the jar and mixed it with a teaspoon. "I have important information and shit."

"Hit me," Michael said. His mind was beginning to feel clearer, less fuzzy at the edges. Was the Bokka leaf wearing off already? The pain hadn't come back though, leaving him with a pleasant feeling.

"You and Jeremy have been asked to be Christine's personal escorts for the next month, while King and Prince Dillinger are visiting. And there are rumors, though I haven't asked her yet, that she's supposed to choose between you two by the time they leave." With his newly sobered mind, he processed that information.

_Wait, fuck._

"Woah, that's..."

"I know. It's a lot." And it was. That meant that for the next month, he would essentially be competing with Jeremy for the position of personal guard. He'd known this was going to happen eventually; he'd been dreading it for at least a year now. But all the same, this felt sudden and ill-timed. On top of the stress of two more royals living in the palace for that time, his newfound nervousness about his health, whatever the fuck was going on with Sir Chloe, and the inexplicable uneasiness that was creeping closer and closer in on him everyday...

This was going to be quite a month.

"So," Brooke continued, staring intensely at the dropper held very carefully over the jar. She let one, two, three drops fall inside, before standing up straight and putting it back in its vial. "I just need to know if you're ready to return to your duties tomorrow. Or, fuck, I guess it would be today? In like, four hours? You could also totally take another day to—"

"No, I think I'm good." It wasn't even a lie. He didn't know what the fuck that leaf had done, but his muscles felt rested and any hint of soreness was gone. His lungs were full of air and warmth. His body was the surface of a pond, clear and calm and undisturbed.

"Are you sure?" she asked. Because an hour ago you said something about being run over by a horse?"

"Brooke, right now I feel like I just got brought back from the dead. I feel... really good. Honestly." She smiled, and took a sip from the steaming liquid in the jar.

"Well that's good. Oh! I almost forgot, here." She reached into her pocket and pulled out the Bokka leaves she'd been carrying earlier. "For if the pain comes back. I uh, I recommend keeping them hidden for the most part. It's probably not a good idea to advertise being on strong painkillers while on the job." Michael nodded, slipping them into his pocket.

"Thanks Brooke," he said. "For everything."

"No problem," she said, stifling a yawn. She took another drink of her tonic. "Now, if you don't mind I'm gonna go get a few hours of sleep. You know where my room is if you need me."

She left, taking the jar and her pleasant company with her.

The thought of sleep returned to him, but he was no longer tired. Now all he wanted was for the sun and moon to hurry up a bit in their trade, so he could get back to his life. He had this idea that if he could just do that, all the other stuff would disappear. He knew it was stupid, but he couldn't help it. The thought that routine could vanquish the unknown was a hard one to dismiss, no matter how preposterous it was.

Everything was going to be okay.

Jeremy was still sound asleep next to him, and his quiet snoring distracted Michael from all the things he didn't want to think about right now. Everything was going to be okay. He knew this, not just because he had convinced himself that normalcy would bring comfort, but because Jeremy was lying next to him on the infirmary room bed, his chest rising and falling in a way that was deceptively calming.

Michael took a deep breath.

Everything was going okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- he's okay just a bit stressed
> 
> \- Hahahahahhaa aren't we all
> 
> \- No joke I'm super unhappy with this chapter and want to rewrite the whole thing again but it that would take time and patience I don't have :))))))
> 
> \- If you couldn't tell I have never had strong painkillers or any other drug, nor have I ever tried to write a character high before, so uhhhhhh the whole thing is a bit wonky. Also in the first draft he wasn't high at all which only adds to the weird aura this chapter gives off.
> 
> \- I just love Brooke so much that's why I spent like fifty thousand paragraphs talking about her
> 
> \- HEY DID YOU GET IT? MIDDLETON? THE BOROUGH? HAHAHA I'm clever and funny you're welcome.
> 
> \- I didn't explain this at all, but uhh the Otr Ehnn Furies is a mountain range near Middleton I guess
> 
> \- Basically I was just pulling names for stuff out of my ass the entire chapter. Papry flu? Agnes root? Vixen petals? Bokka leaves? Mainsen? Hylias? Whatt he ufck?
> 
> \- Speaking of papry flu, I decided that it's just like a normal flu, except yyou also get a deep purple rash. Like the color of papry flowers, which I decided were a thing like two seconds ago.
> 
> \- I started writing more about Lena Durskin's antics but it felt out of place. I have plans for it though don't worry. 
> 
> \- Oh is Michael developing a strange relationship with honesty and dishonesty? I didn't notice. I wonder what the reason for that could possibly be. who knows? 
> 
> \- Okay but the idea of Michael actually thinking Chloe was flirting with him was so unbelievably hilarious to me that I couldn't not include it.
> 
> \- Brooke was making a sleep tonic! She has insomnia. It will probably be mentioned again at some point
> 
> \- Is Brooke also a faerie? What does she know? What was that whole thing between her and Chloe about? Find out none of this and more in the next chapter! ;)
> 
> \- Oh also I know in that first paragraph is a little hard to tell exactly what's going on so I wrote a little [extra thing](https://theninthmember.tumblr.com/tagged/asr-extra) from Jeremy's perspective you're welcome.


	5. V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christine is nervous, a plan is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a while!! School? Gross. Writing? Hard. Podcasts? Distracting.
> 
> I am forcibly escorted from ao3.

The thing about His Highness, Jake Dillinger, was that he was perfect. Everyone was saying it. So much gossip had been flying from the kitchen in the past week, Michael was surprised any meals were being served at all.

Jenna said he was sent by the heavens themselves. Brooke said he was dreamy. Jeremy said he was handsome (Michael's jaw clenched, almost imperceptibly).

When he'd asked Christine, she had shrugged and said he seemed nice enough. But even she was attempting to fend off a smile as she spoke of him.

To contrast this, Sir Chloe Valentine seemed to be trying awfully hard to avoid him.

Yeah, Chloe was still around. In the last week she'd stuck to Michael and Jeremy like sap to the side of a tree. He’d grown used to her presence, though ever since he visited the infirmary last week she seemed to be trying to get him alone, which was raising all kinds of red flags in his mind. He’d been able to make up excuses so far, but he was also well aware that Chloe was not the kind of person you could lie to long term.

So in the last week, Michael had been watching her very closely, in order to discern her motives. Hopefully before she stopped taking no for an answer.

Michael didn't know much about people, but even he could piece together that for whatever reason, Chloe did not want to see the prince. She was finally starting to get rotations that weren't door duty, and she was trading half of them away to other knights.

"Sir Chloe," Captain Reyes said loudly. "Patrolling in the east wing." The royal guests’ wing of the palace. Chloe's smile was strained as she nodded, and Reyes moved on to the next assignment. Michael watched with narrowed eyes as Chloe turned to Sir Sylvia.

"Wanna trade rotations?" she asked, voice low enough that Michael only heard it because he was already eavesdropping. Sylvia—door duty outside the dungeon—nodded quickly with wide eyes. Michael was certain almost any knight would choose the same.

Why didn’t Chloe want to meet the prince? Maybe she was just— He cut off the thought with a sharp mental thwack, because, no Michael, Chloe Valentine was most decidedly not shy. He couldn’t think of any other reason, but that definitely wasn’t it.

Michael had been stuck with door duty all week, thanks to a request to Reyes from Christine, but he was excited to quit taking it easy and get back to his regular duties today.

"Sir Michael and Sir Jeremy," the captain said. Michael straightened his back, trying to hide a smile. Hall patrols and sneaking off to hang out with Christine and no one babying him sounded pretty nice right now. "You are to accompany Christine in her activities." Michael blinked. They were being placed directly with Christine? He looked at Jeremy, to find that he didn't look surprised. Why was . . . .

Oh. The competition.

Shit.

He nodded at Reyes, hiding his dismay. As he and Jeremy turned and left the room side by side, a heavy silence descended upon them. And as they walked down the winding hallways and up the passages of stairs that would lead them to Christine’s room, they both knew that even though they might have fun, the next month was, at its heart, going to be a challenge.

The simple fact was that whoever did a better job over the next few weeks, whoever Christine thought was a better knight, whoever she decided she wanted by her side for the rest of her life, would win. Would receive a promotion, with all the advantages that come with it. And the other . . . the other would be left behind.

Michael knew Jeremy wanted it. Jeremy would never say it but he wanted this so badly. It was more than a job for him. It was the position his mother had held so long ago. Michael, on the other hand . . . he wanted the job, of course, but that’s all it was. He had made the decision long ago, when he first began to understand what the position meant, that he wouldn’t try his hardest. If he won, sure, that would be nice. But if he lost, that might just be even better, because he could imagine Jeremy’s face right now, all surprise and happiness coiling up and exploding.

When he pictured that, Michael thought that maybe he was destined to lose.

He paused for a moment at Christine’s door, wondering if he should do the knock, or just call for her, but before he could decide she threw the door open, grabbed his arm and yanked him inside. Jeremy followed close behind. She slammed the door shut behind her and looked at them in panic.

“Did you see him?” she asked.

“What?” Michael responded, confused and concerned.

“Prince Jake, did you see him this morning? He’s wearing a purple coat and his hair is so shiny and he’s so so _tall_ you guys, he’s so tall, and I’m . . . I don’t know what I’m going to wear and he’s gonna see me soon and I’m freaking out a little bit!”

Jeremy placed his hands on her shoulders.

“Hey, hey, Your—Christine, take a breath, okay?” She nodded, hands coming up to grip Jeremy’s wrists.

“Okay,” she said, “okay, I’ll just . . . I’ll take a breath.”

“Good,” Jeremy said, leading her towards the bed. “We’ll help you get ready, okay?”

“Are you sure? Maybe I could speak to Marinda, and she could—“

“No, Christine, Marinda is not the answer to this, she’ll just make you feel worse.” Marinda was Christine’s old lady-in-waiting. She really sucked, always made Christine feel bad about her appearance, her demeanor. Eventually Christine refused to see her anymore, and she was given a new position in the palace.

“Right, right, you’re right, I’m just . . .” She shook her hands in abstract motions around her head while looking at the floor with wide eyes. “Ahhhhh,” she said in a short, deadpan scream. “You know?”

Jeremy nodded sagely. “Yeah, I know. What is this about?"

"Well... I don't know, I wasn't sure I would like Prince Jake but now that I've met him I'm . . . I'm starting to think I might? But I also realized he's way out of my league and his dad gave me a creepy 'respect my son or else' parent type talk and I'm really worried that he doesn’t like me? What if we don't get married because his dad doesn't even like me? Or what if we don't get married because Jake doesn't like me? Or, or, what if we get married anyway even though he doesn't like me and we'll have children born into a miserable loveless marriage and-"

"Yeah, I'm gonna stop you right there," Michael said, coming over to sit on her other side. "First of all, Jake’s dad has barely met you, second of all, you don’t have to impress him. You have to impress Jake, and I promise you that he will be blown away by how amazing and super rad you are. And if he isn’t, you won’t have to marry him. You can marry someone who sees you for who you are, which is to say, a fucking bomb human being.” Christine smiled at him. Jeremy put a hand over hers.

“Okay, we can pick out a dress first, okay? Green or brown?” Christine frowned.

“Green, duh.” Michael smiled, because at least Christine, even in her panic, still passionately and inexplicably hated the color brown.

“Green or blue?” Jeremy asked.

“Green,” Christine responded again.

“Green or pink?”

“Green.”

“Well it sounds to me like you wanna wear a green dress.” Jeremy said. He made eye contact with Michael and with a short nod Michael began to find the dresses that were primarily green. This was difficult because a lot of them were not in the dresser. Many of Christine’s clothes were scattered across her floor, flung over furniture.

Thirty seconds later Michael had his arms full with five different green dresses, all different shades and materials and cuts. Christine looked at all of them, biting her lip.

“I don’t know, which do you guys think?”

“I like this one,” Michael and Jeremy said in unison, pointing at two different dresses. Christine giggled a little.

“I’ll try them both on,” she said. Michael handed her the two dresses.

After ten minutes and a lot of blushing on Jeremy’s part, Christine had decided on a dress and was brushing her hair.

“It’s like . . . I mean obviously he’s very attractive but we’ve talked a little bit and I think he’s... I think he’s really nice too? I mean it’s not enough to say that for sure but I’m really hoping to get to know him better, you know?”

“Uh, I guess,” Jeremy said, smiling sheepishly. “So anyway, what’s up first on your packed princess schedule?”

“Oh, well it’s actually not too bad today since it’s Thursday so I just have political history and then horseback after lunch. Oh, and political history should start soon. Could you guys walk me there?”

“Sure,” Michael said.

“Great.” Christine set her brush down and smiled at them. “Let’s go.” Michael was glad she was feeling better, and he and Jeremy followed two steps behind her as she left her room and walked down the hall.

“What are you doing?” Christine asked, stopping.

“Uhh, what do you mean?” Jeremy responded. “We’re just walking.”

“You guys are trying to be personal guards, right?”

“Yes?”

“Personal guards walk level with me, not behind, silly.” Jeremy and Michael looked at each other a moment before hurrying to comply, each taking a side of Christine.

They were met with footsteps echoing in the hall coming toward them, and suddenly Prince Jake Dillinger and his personal guard were turning the corner.

Christine stopped a few feet in front of them.

“Why hello, Prince Jake . . . ob,” said Christine, tacking on the rest of his name after a minuscule pause. Michael had to stop himself from snorting at her formal language. She was obviously nervous. Jake took no heed.

“Good morning, Your Royal Highness,” he replied, a warm smile stretching across his lips and painting his face in a warm light. “It’s good to see you.” Christine blushed.

“It’s good to see you as well,” she said stiffly. “Well, I suppose, um . . . I suppose I will be seeing you at supper tonight, so I really . . . .” She trailed off as Jake stepped closer, leaning in to whisper something in her ear.

Jeremy looked at Michael with raised eyebrows. It was getting a little uncomfortable just standing here. Apparently Jake’s personal guard didn’t think so, because when Michael glanced at him he was grinning and making an obscene gesture at him from behind Jake’s back.

Jake finished what he was saying, and Christine looked all but incoherent, letting out a high and giddy laugh.

“Uh, I, um . . . yes, of course I would um... yes, that sounds . . . that sounds nice,” she babbled. Jake’s smile widened.

“Awesome. I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

Christine nodded, apparently no longer able to speak.

“Cool. See you later, Your Highness.” Christine nodded again, a love struck smile running along her lips. Jake turned to Michael and Jeremy. “Gentlemen,” he said with a nod.

“Your Highness,” they replied in unison, bowing their heads. Jake walked past them down the hall, his guard stopping to shoot them both finger guns before following.

Well. That was interesting.

“I’m . . . Christine, what did he say?” Jeremy asked, turning back to her from where he was watching Jake leave. Christine brought a hand up to her cheek.

“He asked . . . you can’t tell anyone this,” she interrupted herself, looking at them with wide eyes.

“Of course not,” Michael said.

“He asked if I wanted to go into town. With him. Tomorrow night.” Michael’s jaw dropped.

“What?” Jeremy blanched. “Into town? There’s gotta be like a thousand rules against that-“

“Lower your voice!” Christine said. Jeremy’s mouth snapped shut. “Yes, there are, but he told me he could sneak me out. Not for long, just for a couple hours! He said that there’s a traveling band of players and they’re performing in Melha Square.” Jeremy was looking at her doubtfully, and for good reason. If she was recognized there without a guard, there was no telling what could happen. “Please don’t tell!” Christine said again, looking between them. “You know I’ve always wanted to see a play in the square, and I... he’ll be careful, I know he will. And his guard, uh, Rich, he’s coming too.” She bit her lip.

Michael sighed. “It’s really not safe, Christine, I’m not sure I can let-“

“We’ll come too,” Jeremy said.

“What,” Christine and Michael said in unison. Jeremy glanced between them.

“We can let you go,” he said slowly. “If we come along too.”

Jeremy and Christine both looked at Michael with so much hope and begging in their goddamn eyes that he really didn’t have a choice here.

“Fine, fine I- ugh. We’ll go. Just for the play. And they’ll we’re going straight back to the palace.” They both nodded vigorously. Michael shook his head. “Ugh,” he said again. “Let’s just get to the damn politics class.”

(Later, when they were alone in the racks, Michael would ask Jeremy why on earth he would ever agree to this. And Jeremy would look around briefly, even though they were the only ones in the room.

“Rich, uh, Jake’s guard, he was talking to me a few days ago, and he was telling me about this . . . this thing you can buy from this vendor in the marketplace. It’s . . . . ”

Michael couldn’t have known what this would lead to. If he did, he would have stopped it right then.

“It’s called a squip.”)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Mood: “Something Bad Is Happening” from Falsettos
> 
> \- Huh, I wonder what possibly motive Chloe could have for getting Michael alone.
> 
> \- Nervous Christine is a good Christine.
> 
> \- Did a lot less beta-ing than usual because I’m really itching to get this chapter out. If you see any typos let me know!


	6. VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the gang goes into town, and buys a... questionable artifact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh boy!! hey y’all im still writing for this fandom! Life is full of surprises

Michael had forgotten what he looked like in civilian clothes. He hadn’t dressed like this in years.

He’d left the palace, of course, but usually it was on official business, so he had no need to change out of his uniform. But tonight, Christine had told him, the goal was inconspicuousness. Look like commoners, try to have fun, keep the princess out of danger.

Sounded easy enough.

It was harder when he saw Jeremy, because _shit_ , he’d forgotten about what he looked like in normal clothes too. From his blue tunic to his messy hair, he was the most beautiful thing in the room. He looked nervous.

“I’m having second thoughts,” he whispered.

“It’s a little late for those, we’re supposed to meet Christine outside the gates in ten minutes,” Michael whispered back. Jeremy nodded quickly, still anxious. Michael wanted to say something along the lines of _This was your idea, dude,_ but looking at Jeremy’s pale face he decided against it. There would be time for blame if something went horribly wrong.

They walked slowly through the halls, trying not to draw attention to themselves. Of course they were allowed to leave, even personal guards had some time off, but if people knew that both of Christine’s guards were gone, they might think to check on her. Which... would not go over well, considering she was not in her room. Luckily they made it outside only passing two dishwashers, who were both too busy fawning over Prince Dillinger to pay them any mind.

(“I saw him yesterday morning, passed right by him on the way to the kitchen,” said one excitedly, pushing a hand through his hair. “I swear he looked right at me.”

“You’re kidding me!” said the other, and you could practically see her eyes bulging out of her head. Michael and Jeremy shared a look as the two passed them. Their voices continued to echo through the hall.

“I’m not!” the first said. “Oh Mary, you wouldn’t believe, he is so tall....”)

Christine was waiting for them in the garden behind a particularly large hedge. A green cloak obscured her figure and gave a slight camouflage with the bushes around her. She greeted them quietly, and they waited. Jake was supposed to be here soon to escort them out some sort of secret entrance. How he ever could have found any kind of secret the palace held in less than a week, Michael didn’t know.

He heard a sound behind him, and spun around, expecting another guard or a palace official. Instead he saw two figures standing flat up against the palace wall, motioning them over.

“Guys,” he whispered, nudging Jeremy. “It’s go time.”

The three of them made their way quickly to the wall. There were no hedges in this section of the grounds. If they were seen now, sneaking along the palace walls, they would look... fairly suspicious. But it seemed the knights in the watch tower weren’t being particularly vigilant today. They soon had cover again as they continued to creep along.

When they came to a life-sized stone statue of a lion, Rich and Jake stopped. By this point they were almost completely out of view from the rest of the grounds, covered in the shadows of hedges and trees. It was the perfect place for a secret passage, if there really was one.

“You do the honors,” Rich said to Jake. Jake flashed a grin at him.

“Thank you, my good sir,” he said. He pulled a small golden key out of his breast pocket, and knelt to the ground. With a confident flourish, he touched the key to a rock. Nothing happened.

“This one, dude,” Rich whispered under his breath, nudging a different rock with his foot.

“ _Ohh_ ,” Jake said, a sheepish grin forming. He repositioned himself and, with no fanfare this time, stuck the key straight into the stone. There was a soft click, and Rich knelt down beside him, feeling around in the grass. Then, to the astonishment of everyone, the ground... opened, as Rich pulled upward on what seemed to be a brass handle. Under the grass was a wooden door in the ground, and under that was a hole, with a ladder leading into inky blackness.

“Shit,” Michael said softly. “How the fuck do you two know about this?” He quickly remembered who he was talking to, and stiffened up. “I—I mean, sorry—” Jake cut him off with a laugh.

“It’s cool man, it’s nice to get away from all the formal shit once in a while.” And okay, maybe Michael finally understood what everyone meant when they talked about how great he was. “Anyway yeah,” Jake continued. “Rich found this entrance a few days ago. It’s wicked spooky, if I’m being honest.” Christine was staring into the darkness, mouth agape.

“I... I never knew about this...” she said.

“We didn’t either,” Jeremy agreed.

“I have my ways,” Rich said with a wink. “Anyway. Into the depths we go.” He began to descend the ladder, Jake following with a chuckle. Christine was right on his heels, which left Michael and Jeremy standing in front of the hole in the ground.

“Uhhh, after you, dude,” Michael said with a shaky smile. Jeremy opened his mouth to argue, but was interrupted by Rich’s voice.

“You cowards comin’ or what?”

Jeremy took a deep breath began to descend the ladder.

Michael closed the door as he climbed in behind him, and they were all thrown into complete blackness. There were no torches or lanterns or anything down here.

“Just follow my voice, dudes,” Rich said, his voice echoing loudly. “I’m basically magic. Can see in the dark, no joke.”

“Yeah uhh, it’s not a fucking maze, it’s literally a hallway,” Jake replied.

“Shut up, dude, just let Richard Night Vision Goranski lead the way.”

Christine snorted.

They walked through the passageway for what must have been ten minutes. Michael began to feel the chill seep through his clothes as his eyes adjusted, only barely, to the dark. Jake wrapped his coat around Christine’s shoulders. Jeremy shivered, and Michael pondered, for a moment, the possibility of taking off his own coat and... no, no, that wasn’t a thing people did unless they were flirting. Which Michael was not trying to do.

Besides, it was cold. Giving up his jacket wouldn’t exactly be smart.

After a while of walking in darkness, Rich’s voice called “Going up!” And then they were at another ladder.

A light breeze hit them as Rich pushed open another door, exposing them to sunlight. When Michael emerged, last of all of them, he realized they were in the grassy hills just outside of the castle’s outer barriers. The town was in sight. Rich hurried ahead of them to the path.

“Come on, losers, we don’t have all day!”

The market was bustling, people walking to and fro, idling past the various storefronts and vendors. Michael listened distractedly as a woman haggled aggressively with a shopkeeper over a small pot of honey. He watched a man juggling with daggers, one slip up away from losing a hand. He noticed a young girl pocketing an apple. Also a slip up away from losing a hand.

Same old town. Which didn’t really surprise him. Middleton wasn’t a kingdom known for change.

“Oh wow,” Christine said, eyes practically bugging out of her head. “Where’s the square?”

“It’s just through here, come on,” Jake said, holding out his arm. She took it with a giggle. Behind them, Rich rolled his eyes, shoulders tight and countenance carefully measured. Michael couldn’t help but take note of the way his eyes lingered on the prince, the way the corners of his mouth didn’t quite point upwards even as he feigned a nonchalant sort of happiness.

Jeremy’s eyes were flicking around nervously.

Michael nudged him, Rich fading from his mind. “Relax, Jer, most of these people have seen Christine like, twice max. From a distance.”

“That doesn’t mean she won’t be recognized,” Jeremy hissed, worry and discomfort bleeding together in his words.

Michael sighed, and said, “Yeah, but it lowers the odds a bit. She’s here to have fun, let’s at least try to do the same.”

Jeremy nodded, not looking any less antsy. Michael looked around for a shop that might cheer him up, but instead his eye caught a glint in the corner of his vision. He turned, to see it was some kind of jewelry shop.

Their rings and necklaces were being displayed on strings from the ceiling. Sparkling gemstones and shining silver suspended in midair, where they caught the light of the low hanging sun and refracted it against the space around them. Michael’s eyes followed the way the it danced on the ground, the way the jewelry glimmered, and he found himself unable to look away.

“—chael? _Michael_ ,” said Jeremy, putting a hand on his arm. Shaken from the trance, Michael faced him.

“What?”

“You okay?”

“Yeah...” Michael said, but actually he was getting a little distracted by the way Jeremy’s eyes were catching the sun. Jeremy’s eyebrows were furrowed. He shook his head.

“Come on, the others are ahead of us.” Jeremy’s hand was still resting on his upper arm, and as they began walking again it slid down until they were striding arm in arm.

Jeremy, to his credit, didn’t seem to notice, but Michael couldn’t help but glance at Christine and Jake, who were doing the exact same thing. Michael swallowed hard. He and Jeremy had done this before, sure, but it felt different, watching the couple in front of them. It felt almost weirdly... intimate.

Romantic.

Michael shook his head slightly to clear his muddled thoughts, but it didn’t work. It never did work, when it came to Jeremy.

 

* * *

 

The show was actually very good. It was a delightful blend of comedic and tragic scenes, and Christine cried a grand total of three separate times.

At the end, as the audience was applauding, Jeremy tried to sneak off. Like, without him. Michael was almost offended. He already knew what Jeremy was doing, the fact that he was trying to hide it from him or something was ludicrous.

Michael told the others to head back without him. Michael went after Jeremy.

At a vendor that advertised custom shoes and low-priced shines, Michael found him. He watched from a distance as Jeremy approached it, wringing his hands and looking suspicious as all hell.

Michael couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, so he snuck closer.

“Do you have the pinnets?” the man was asking.

“Y-yeah,” Jeremy stammered, shoving his hand into his pocket. He extracted eleven golden coins out of his pocket. Michael couldn’t see them all from where he was standing but he knew it was eleven because Jeremy possessed exactly eleven pinnets and didn’t know enough about markets to haggle. The vendor eyed the pieces and pursed his lips.

“Sorry pal,” he said. “It’s fifteen.”

“W-what?” Jeremy stutter. “My, my friend told me it was eleven.” The man shrugged.

“Demand’s high. Price has gone up.” Jeremy looked like he was going to have a fucking panic attack in the middle of the marketplace, so Michael made the quick decision to step in. He approached the vendor, fishing a pinnet out his pocket, and unceremoniously smacked it onto the counter. Jeremy jumped a foot in the air.

“Twelve,” Michael said, keeping his face stony. “Or we’ll get ‘em from the other guy.” Michael didn’t know if there was another guy and he hoped the shopkeeper didn’t either. The man raised an eyebrow, but his shoulders were tense, and Michael knew he was considering the offer.

“Fourteen,” the man said slowly. Michael pulled two copper pieces out of his pocket and dropped them onto the counter.

“Twelve and two divents. Final offer.” There was a pause.

The man scowled and swiped the coins off the counter.

“Damn kids robbing me blind,” he muttered as he turned his back to them. Michael turned to Jeremy, who looked almost ashamed.

“I—sorry, I know I shouldn’t have, uh, snuck off like that, I was just—“

“It’s cool, dude,” Michael reassured him. Jeremy shook his head, a hand coming up to the back of his neck.

“No, it’s—it’s not cool. I’m sorry.” Michael paused. Nodded.

“Thanks,” he said. “I—“

He was cut off by a sharp  _clack!_ as the shopkeeper set something onto the counter. It was a wooden box, slightly smaller than one shoes would come in, with intricate carvings and a silver latch. He slid it over to Jeremy, who, with shaking hands, slowly moved to open it—

The man smacked his hands away.

“No no no! Don’t let it out! Stick your finger into the hole.”

“What,” Jeremy asked blankly. Michael saw now, a small opening in the wood a couple centimeters in diameter.

“Haven’t you read anything about squips?Stick your finger into the box so it can imprint on you. Then it’s yours.”

Jeremy eyed the box warily. Slowly, he reached out, easing his finger into the hole. Michael cleared his throat, turning his eyes elsewhere. There was a few seconds of silence, and then Jeremy yelped, yanking his hand back like it’d been burned. A bead of blood was welling up on his finger, Jeremy’s face grew pale just looking at it.

The man slammed his hands over the box as it began to move. The drop of blood fell from Jeremy’s finger onto the ground. On the counter, the box shook ominously, the man seeming to be having trouble keeping it shut, even leaning his full weight into it, with the latch closed. The dry air around them felt charged with something Michael couldn’t place, something unspeakable and dangerous. The rattling filled the space between Michael’s ears, tore at his thoughts, and as it crescendoed, Jeremy took his hand and squeezed tightly.

After a few seconds, the box stilled. The man grinned.

“Enjoy your squip,” he said. With a dramatic twirl of his hands, he undid the latch, and opened the box.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- how did rich find out about the passageway? idk...... ;)
> 
> \- michael, meet rich, he’s also pining for his best friend
> 
> -oh is Michael getting distracted by sparkly objects? wonder why... ;)))
> 
> \- okay, so I’ve got the most basic monetary system possible: gold, silver and copper coins. The gold pieces are called pinnets and the copper pieces are called divents and I don’t know what the silver pieces are called.
> 
> \- A LOT of divents go into a pinnet, so Michael basically upped his offer from 400 dollars to 400 dollars and six (6) cents. And the guy fucking took it.
> 
> \- Michael averting his eyes when Jeremy put his finger into the hole was not in my first draft but I realized while revising that there was no way to describe it that didn’t sound vaguely sexual so,,,
> 
> \- anyway, you KNOW it’s all gonna be downhill from here folks........ buckle up


	7. VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael does something dumb, and learns something new.

(He wanted to laugh. The thing was positively revolting, small enough to fit in a hand, but gross enough that you wouldn’t ever hold it. Its skin a pasty, translucent white. Eyes a murky green, the color of swamp mud. Head disproportionately large for its body, and a long hooked tail that flicked back and forth as it hovered. It had no wings that they could see, but it seemed to have no problem staying in the air.

Michael wanted to laugh at this bizarre, pitiful creature, but he found himself petrified, _terrified_ , staring at the thing as it rose from the box. Time seemed to slow as it fixed them both with a piercing gaze. It smiled, or at least did something close, and even at this distance Michael could see its teeth stained red. It darted forward suddenly, and his ability to move came back all at once as he shouted, yanked his hand free of Jeremy’s and stumbled back a few steps. The thing did not pursue, choosing instead to stop in front of Jeremy’s face. It smiled again, and Michael couldn’t breathe.

And then it vanished.)

 

* * *

 

The week that followed was the usual, for the most part. Well, not the old usual, the days Michael was beginning to miss. The week that followed was a _new_ usual.

After the squip disappeared into thin air, most likely never to be seen again, Michael and Jeremy had returned to the palace in a daze. The vendor had picked up his stock and run in the moments following the opening of the box. The whole thing had been some sort of scam.

(Still, whenever Michael thought back to the moment those beady eyes had met his, a shiver ran down his spine without fail.)

Jeremy had made him promise not to speak to anyone else of what had happened, and Michael had agreed, and then they had made a silent agreement that they wouldn’t speak of it to each other, either. Jeremy had gotten scammed in the marketplace, and it had been eerie, and it had been ominous but it had been a scam and they didn’t need to talk about it anymore.

As per the new usual, they followed Christine to her lessons. They ate meals with her. They sat in her room and they discussed, well, Jake mostly, but also some of the big plans she had for when she took the throne.

“We’re just so disconnected here in the palace,” she said one day. “When I’m queen, I don’t want to feel like I’m living a life entirely removed from my people. I’ll open the palace. I’ll visit the marketplace, the marketplace was so amazing, don’t you think? Oh, and I can sell a bunch of the stuff from the treasury, and we could use the money to clean up the kingdom. More knights for patrol _outside_ of the palace, safer streets… Everytime I think about it I feel so… _AUGHH_!” she says, giving a small shout, or possibly a roar. “Like, so powerful and excited and ready? And like, being queen’s not gonna be, y’know, fun or anything but at least I’ll be able to make a difference, y’know?”

The two knights nodded. They didn’t know, not really. But Christine was fired up, and passionate and determined to change things for the better, and both Michael and Jeremy supported her, always.

As per the new usual, Chloe followed them whenever she was allowed. Which is to say, to the banquet hall every morning and to the racks every night, along with whatever free time they weren’t spending with Christine.

For a week, everything was the new usual. For _one_ week, everything was normal.

But, as it was starting to seem like its own part of the new usual, change came.

The morning Michael’s world turned upside-down was a simple one. He dressed, chatted with Jeremy, and was bombarded by the presence of Chloe Valentine. They got into uniform and left the racks, Chloe and Jeremy discussing something trivial while she snuck glances at Michael and thought he didn’t notice. Michael followed a little behind them. The buzzing in his head was something he’d grown somewhat accustomed to in the last few weeks, but it did make focusing rather difficult sometimes.

Like right now, it felt like it was all around him, as suffocating as it was inescapable. Michael usually did his best to ignore it but today felt different. Today Michael swallowed hard and felt something almost… tangible, in the air.

And overtaken by curiosity, Michael reached out. He didn’t move his hands, didn’t move his body at all except for his feet keeping a steady pace beneath him. But with something inside him, some new sense he hadn’t ever been aware of, Michael reached.

There was a small popping sensation in his head, and with widening eyes, Michael realized that the noise around him had just grown a little quieter.

He was almost positive he had just experienced some sort of spiritual awakening. There were all sorts of stories he’d been told in his youth of people having auras, energy they could feel and interact with. Michael was perhaps slightly disappointed that his was apparently just a distracting buzzing feeling, but then again, he couldn’t say it was out of character.

Chloe laughed at some joke Jeremy had told, and Michael slowed his step slightly.

It was like when they were little and Jeremy had discovered he could wiggle his ears. For months, it was nonstop, he’d wiggle them at dinner, in the halls, as they were getting ready for bed. Or maybe it was more like when Michael had fallen on his face at the age of seven and knocked two of his teeth loose. They had _hurt_ , but for some reason Michael hadn’t been able to stop prodding them with his tongue until they both fell out a week later.

Or maybe it wasn’t like either of those things. Whatever the simile, Michael reached out again, with that something deep inside, and prodded the space around him. It was like fireworks in his brain, and on his skin. For a second there was a jolt that ran through him, and then there was a wonderful quiet. Michael liked this. He liked this a lot. He was lagging quite a bit behind Jeremy and Chloe at this point, and he was about to run and catch up with them, but first.

First, in a mix of impulsiveness and something that felt like instinct, Michael reached and gave a hard shove, pushing up against the buzzing as hard as he could. For a moment, there was a feeling almost like pain, but one step removed. A explosion of sound in the back of his skull, and his stomach, and his limbs, and it felt like his entire body had fallen asleep and woken up on fire.

And then, the opposite of how it began, the feeling was gone, and Michael felt lighter and more at peace than he’d been in weeks. The buzzing just… wasn’t there, replaced by a silence Michael didn’t realize he would miss. He quickened his pace with a smile, approaching Chloe and Jeremy as they reached the entrance to the courtyard.

The rhythm of Jeremy’s steps faltered, and then stopped altogether as he stared out the window with an awed expression. The edges of his mouth quirked up.

“Wow. Spring sprung a little early this year, I guess.” Michael followed Jeremy’s gaze and his mouth fell open a little, because _wow_ was right. The courtyard was almost fully in bloom. Bright green leaves on the trees and vines climbing up the walls and huge flowers everywhere, bursting with color. It was beautiful. It was early.

It was… wrong.

When he glanced behind him Michael was confused to see Chloe staring at him, a mixture of horror and anger clouding her features. Michael huffed, looking back at the garden. He couldn’t even begin to guess how he’d upset her this time. Jeremy’s eyes were bright as he marveled at the blooms, and Michael watched him for a moment, a smile crawling onto his lips.

And then it hit.

He fell to the floor as his insides exploded, writhing in agony. It wasn’t just in his stomach this time, though that seemed to be where it was most intense. His head throbbed, his chest ached, and every nerve ending in his body simultaneously combusted, or at least that’s what it felt like. His breath came in short, choked pants as Jeremy flew to his side, actions a panicked haze to Michael’s overwhelmed senses.

“Michael! Michael, what’s wrong? Are you okay, what’s—fuck, I don’t—”

“Calm down.” Chloe’s voice cut through everything. She pulled Jeremy up by the back of his shirt. “I’ll take him to the infirmary. You go to your rotation.” Jeremy nodded but didn’t move, didn’t take his eyes off Michael until Chloe physically turned him around. “He’ll be fine,” she said as she gave him a push, and with that Jeremy walked stiffly down the hall, looking back only four times before rounding the corner.

When he was gone, Chloe made a noise not unsimilar to a growl.

“Get up,” she said harshly.

Michael felt compelled to do as she said, so he pulled himself to his feet best he could, using the window sill for grip. The pain had begun to fade a little, but not the buzzing, and Michael felt both jittery and exhausted, raw in a way he never wanted to feel again. Once standing, the room began to spin, and he stumbled a few steps before Chloe grabbed his arm, nails digging into his skin.

“Do not faint,” she commanded him. She ran her other hand through her hair as Michael gripped at his stomach. “Fuck,” she said. “They—they told me you wouldn’t have complete control, but I thought Dustin would at least teach you not to bloom entire _gardens_ , fuck, Michael. Do you have any idea how suspicious that is? Three more weeks until spring and everything blooms all at once? Are you _trying_ to get yourself killed?”

Michael was actually just trying to follow along, piecing her words together like they were a puzzle. It was no use, she wasn’t making any sense.

“I… what?” he asked. “What are you talking about? Who’s Dustin?” Chloe froze.

“Dustin Kropp?” she said slowly, her eyes scanning his face with a new intensity. “The guy who first told you about all of… this?”

“All of what?” Chloe stared at him blankly for a long moment, releasing his arm.

“Are you joking,” she said, voice almost a whisper. It was supposed to be a question but it was delivered flatly, disbelief clear in her voice. Michael frowned.

“No, I—I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about and I’ve never met anyone named Dustin Croft or whatever. Can we—“ He took in a sharp breath as a new wave of pain hit him. “Can we just go to the infirmary?”

There was another long moment of silence.

“Are you telling me,” Chloe said, voice rising in volume slightly and hands coming up to rub at her temples, “that you really have _no idea_ who you are?”

He shook his head. “I’m Michael Mell,” he said, at a complete loss for what was happening. Chloe made a noise halfway between a groan and a scream.

“Fuck,” she said. “No fucking wonder you’ve been acting like a moron, shit, this was—this was supposed to be a fucking _simple_ mission! Show up, help you for a few weeks, be on the lookout for the professor, and go home. I didn’t sign up for a… a fucking _sapling_!”

Michael was fairly certain she had just insulted him at least once, possibly twice, but she seemed very distressed so he let it go, placing a hand on her arm. “Don’t fucking touch me,” she snarled, and Michael pulled his hand away immediately.

She sighed. “Sorry,” she said after a moment. “I’m not in a great mood, I just found out I’m a beginning course instructor now.” She shook her head and ran a hand through her hair again. “Okay, follow me. We need to get you a Bakko leaf before you pass out.” She took his arm and began to pull him along, but he dug his heels into the floor.

“I, I actually have some,” he said, pulling out the bundle Brooke had given him.

“Oh, she’s a _genius_ , that’s perfect! Okay, normally I’d say one, but like, it was a whole courtyard, I… hmm. How about you pop two and we’ll call it good?” He did as she instructed, still not understanding what the courtyard had to do with any of this. “Okay, I’m still gonna take you to the greenhouse because we are going to need a more private place for our discussion.”

She lead him through the hall, and he followed behind, a bit dazed. After rounding three corners the two arrived at the entrance of the greenhouse, where she produced a key Michael wasn’t sure how she’d acquired. It was empty inside, which wasn’t surprising; it was mainly Brooke who spent time in here, or Jenna, if she needed a particularly rare herb. Chloe pointed to a bench.

“Sit down, you’ll… you’ll want to be sitting for this.” Michael sat slowly, staring up at her with narrowed eyes.

“We’re not gonna go to the infirmary, are we?” he asked.

“You don’t need it,” Chloe said with a wave of her hand. “Those leaves are _fine_ for green thumb.” And though he didn’t understand exactly what she meant, Michael couldn’t deny he was feeling a lot better, the whispers of pain faint enough that they weren’t at the forefront of his mind. “Fuck,” Chloe said, after a moment, pacing back and forth between two potted ferns. “I don’t know how to tell you this, Dustin is—Dustin is better with words, I…”

She trailed off, before coming to a stop. After a deep breath, she turned to look at him.

“Michael Mell,” she said. “You are a faerie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- where’s the squip? Michael’s probably right, it’s gone for good........
> 
> \- speaking of the squip.. i hate to put this image into your brains but in my head it looks like an awful mix of the [pixies](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/11/51/24/11512430956a8fbb1bf7bc0232fac9b7.jpg) from harry potter and that [weirdly cute bat](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/sullivanbluth/images/4/44/Anastasia-anastasia-764061_780_435.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20140510225956) from anastasia. just a gross and creepy little guy.
> 
> \- I’ve had the scene where Michael blooms a courtyard and Chloe yells at him drafted for a bajillion years now
> 
> \- Dustin Cropp? Cryptid
> 
> \- the secret’s out!! What will happen next? Who knows I haven’t checked my notes in a decade

**Author's Note:**

> What's that?? Medieval knights don't talk like 21st century teenagers? I can't read suddenly. I don't know. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading, I hope you liked it! Kudos and comments give me motivation to write faster!! 
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](https://theninthmember.tumblr.com)


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